No less than human
by Roxanne-Michal
Summary: Sherlock has never been an easy person to get along with, but what happens when he meets a woman who doesn't seem to mind the way he is? And when her life is threatened, will he be willing to give up the most importing thing in his life for her?
1. Chapter 1

The taxi door opened suddenly, allowing droplets of rain to spill onto the floor as a smug looking man climbed in shaking water from his dark curly hair.

"That sure took you long enough. What were you doing in there?"

Sherlock looked at his friend as though the answer should have been obvious "I was looking for my skull. Mrs Hudson hid it one last time and I couldn't let it be taken away along with all her other possessions. She was getting remarkably clever with her hiding places… placing it in her china cabinet to be camouflaged among her teapots; who would of guessed?"

"Obviously you." Answered John, as the taxi began its way through the wet, dreary streets of London.

A gloomy day for a gloomy mood thought John. The news came as such a shock to both he and Sherlock. Poor Mrs Hudson, they were on their way back from a case when they saw the police cars parked outside their flat. He immediately thought one of Sherlock's experiments had blown up again, until he saw the ambulance that is. "A heart attack?" he heard Sherlock ask as he watched the paramedics wheel the body out of the flat and into the back of the ambulance. He felt his eyes start to water. He had grown very fond of Mrs Hudson, always making them tea and looking after them like a concerned grandmother would. He knew Sherlock was pained as well, his face kept the same cold exterior as always but there was something in his eyes… Remorse? Sherlock wasn't heartless, no matter what people thought. He's simply a high-functioning sociopath and John guessed they showed their feeling a bit differently...

"John?" He snapped out of his train of thought and looked at Sherlock.

"What?"

"You're crying."

John touched the side of his face and felt that his cheek was moist.

"Yes Sherlock I am, we're on our way to the funeral of a woman that I- we, both have grown very close to and-"

"What about our flat?"

"What?" John couldn't believe what he was hearing… well actually he could.

"Our flat, John" Sherlock replied with an annoyed look. "Mrs Hudson's sons live in Liverpool and America and I highly doubt either of them will drop everything to come and take over the building. And she didn't leave it to us, I took a look at her will."

"Why did she show you her will?"

"She didn't. It wasn't hard to figure out where she put it. She left it to her eldest son Harry, the one living in America. Its probably going to end up being sold then our rent is going to skyrocket, oh why did she have to go and have herself a heart attack" He crossed his arms and sunk into the cab's seat.

John rolled his eyes.

"OH!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"What?"

"Oh yes, brilliant."

"What, Sherlock?"

"Why didn't I think if that before?

"WHAT SHERLOCK!"

"We can forge her will John, we can have the building."

John stared at him blankly as the cap pulled to a stop in front of the church.

"No Sherlock" He answered getting out of the cab and paying the cabbie.

"But imagine the money we'll save-"

"No Sherlock we are not forging that poor woman's will. End of story."

Sherlock decided this was neither the time nor place for an ethical debate so he sulked behind John, defeated, and climbed to steps to the chapel.

The funeral was simple and sweet. Apart from John having to scold Sherlock for texting during the opening prayer; it went by rather smoothly. The grey sky had somewhat cleared up allowing sunlight to shine through the stained glass windows and leave colourful patterns on the church floor and pews. John caught a whiff of the peach roses by the casket as he got up to give his condolences to the family, a pleasant aroma compared to the musky sent that hung in the air of the church. Sherlock rather liked the musky smell, it reminded him of his fathers study when he was a boy. He was never allowed to enter that room but once in a while he would sneak in just to sit on the window seat and watch the dust particles dance in the sunbeams coming through the window.

John had disappeared among the small crowd of family and friends leaving Sherlock to walk along the cold, stone, wall that made up the interior of the church. He came across a picture of a very young looking Mrs Hudson. She was an attractive young woman, from her teeth he was able to deduce she was 24 at the time, married for 3 years by the condition of her wedding ring, and already having problems in her marriage by the way she was standing in a somewhat defensive position, adjacent to her husband.

"Wasn't she gorgeous?" Asked a voice from behind him. Sherlock turned to see a young woman. She was tall, however not overly so. Her emerald green eyes stood out against her light olive skin and her curly and slightly unruly hair created a somewhat whimsical air about her.

"Hardly, She was fair at most I suppose" He answered, immediately realizing that was probably the wrong thing to say. As much as he hated to admit it one thing that his brother, Mycroft could do that he couldn't was have civil conversations with people without the outcome of getting slapped, being told to piss off or, more recently, getting hit over the head with a bag of shopping. Sherlock braced himself, half-expecting some foreign object to be colliding with his face at any moment.

However there she stood, with somewhat calculating eyes of her own and a slight mischievous grin playing on her lips.

" AH, Sherlock Holmes I presume"

"Indeed." Sherlock answered furrowing his eyebrows. "And who might you be?"

"Oh, c'mon. I thought you'd be able to tell"

"I'm a detective not a physic. Lets see... Your obviously American, western states, Californian to be exact. You are of middle eastern decent, only from one patent however. You've been traveling for the past 8 months, starting on your 20th birthday, last stop before England being Greece. You were close to Mrs Hudson... close enough to know about her tenants anyway-"

"Sherlock! There you are." Interrupted a rather out of breath John.

Sherlock glanced at the mobile in John's hand. He had just received a call. From Detective Inspector Lestrade it seemed.

"Oh lovely a murder." Sherlock exclaimed, his face brightening immediately. "Its about time."

"A double homicide near Paternoster Square and you're needed immediately- Oh hello" He added noticing the young woman for the first time. "John Watson"

"Yasim Hudson" She replied, taking his outstretched hand.

"Granddaughter! Of course! Harry is your father." Exclaimed Sherlock smacking his forehead. "I thought I recognized your earlobes. Your Grandmother had the exact same shape."

Yasim touched her ear and gave Sherlock a confused look.

"You get used to it after a while." John told her smirking. "Just be glad you don't have to live with him."

"Shed better get used to it, as we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Now it was John's turn to give Sherlock a confused look.

"Really now John use your head." He gave Yasim a knowing glance. "You're looking at our new landlady."

**A/N- Ok so this is my first Sherlock fan fic ever... well my first fan fic ever... well the first thing Ive ever written... period. So PLEASE give me some criticism for i haven't a clue what I'm doing. Also I'm American so if i say something that you normally don't say in the UK let me know. Im going to continue this based on the comments that i get so if you do want me on continue by all means say so, however if you didn't like it then feel free to hate as well.**

**P.S Who knows where i got Yasim's name from? =D**


	2. Chapter 2

Yasim walked down the damp London sidewalk, dragging a suitcase behind her. The slip of paper in her pocket showed her the directions to 221A Baker st. and according to her calculations this was it. Other than some construction going on across the street, it was a quiet area. Pulling out a key from her purse, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. Most of her Grandmother's personal things have been cleared out but the furniture remained, she dropped her suitcase on the floor and sat on the old leather couch. She didn't really want to stop traveling but her father couldn't just drop everything in California to come take over her Grandmother's affairs in England, plus she was running out of cash, here she would have a place to stay while she saved some money. Her Grandmother didn't have a job so she guessed what the tenants paid would be enough to support her... Her tenants... they left the funeral in a hurry. Sherlock just walked out of the church after he disclosed her as their new landlady, and John (still confused) simply bid her good day and ran after him. How did Sherlock know she had just gotten back from Greece? She got up and looked in the bathroom mirror; there was nothing she could see that gave it away. Her grandmother always said he was somewhat of a genius... as well as a rude, pompous, arrogant and... quite a dish. Yasim smiled at that last thought, for an old woman she definitely had a sense of humor.

She busied herself with unpacking and rearranging when she heard the front door close and footsteps ascend the stairs.

"Why not?" she heard Sherlock ask.

"Because you just don't."

Yasim opened the door of her flat and tiptoed up the steps, following the two men.

"Well it was true wasn't it?"

"That may be Sherlock but you just can't walk up to a crime scene, point to the nearest person, say 'He did it' and walk away. Especially if that person is a member of scotland yard!"

"I should of pointed at Anderson."

"Sherlock..."

"I just can't believe no one even bothered to look at that man's shoes. They were the same brand as the dead woman's- oh what was her name John?"

"Cassandra"

"Right. They were also bought at the same time; which was yesterday evening- the same day Cassandra and her husband were killed. I'm sure he still has the receipt to both pairs of shoes which would place him with one of the victims; Cassandra, at around the time of death."

"Well what about the dead man? That was her husband"

"Do keep up John. There was an impression on her ring finger, so she was married but took her ring off when she was with the other man which means her lover didn't know she had a husband. My guess is that her husband saw them together, followed them, then confronted the other man. The argument got heated and turned into a fight. The lover pulls out his gun -being a member of the scotland yard he always carries one- kills his mistress for lying to him then kills her husband."

"And you could tell all that by shoes?"

Sherlock got up from his couch and strode towards the door. "Oh there were other factors in play, but I'd much rather know how our dear new landlady is settling in. Do come in Yasim."

Yasim cursed under her breath and opened the door to 221B, making a mental note not to eavesdrop on detectives.

"Hey there, I uh, just wanted to know if you if you wanted some tea?" She figured that was a good of an excuse as any for hanging around her tenants' front door... for some reason unknown to her the British were obsessed with tea. "Or as you would say," she added "Anyone fancy a cuppa?"

"That would be lovely thank you." said John politely "Its been... quite an eventful day."

Yasim looked at Sherlock.

"I might as well." He answered.

The young woman nodded and headed to the kitchen. Then it dawned on her... she had no clue how to make a proper cup of tea. I mean sure she had done it in the states but surely the English did it differently. She looked around the kitchen to see if there were any clues. Sugar near the kettle? Did they even put sugar in their tea? She located to sugar and pulled it out, wondering what to do with it.

"So uh, Yasim," John said, breaking the silence "How are you doing?"

"Im OK" she answered, frantically looking around the kitchen for a spoon. "I'm busy with unpacking so it kinda takes my mind off Tata"

"Tata?"

"Oh, its Arabic slang for Grandmother, like 'nanna' or something."

"Harry is your father so that would make your mother from the middle east, correct?" Flashbacks of the war involuntarily made their way into John's head. He forced them out.

"Yeah, Saudi Arabia. I don't speak fluent Arabic but Tata always liked me to call her that" She smiled to herself.

John smiled as well "She was a fine woman, very kind"

"She was" Yasim sighed. "Well, as far as I saw she was, we were never that close."

Rummaging more through the kitchen she found some honey. Perfect, she thought and placed it on the counter.

"Have you gone mad?" Sherlock finally spoke up.

Yasim turned around to find herself face to face with the man. Blimey, he was fast.

"What, I thought you wanted tea?"

"Americans." Sherlock rolled his eyes "You _never _put honey in tea, are you trying to poison us?"

Yasim gave him a blank stare. If his face wasn't so dreadfully serious she probably would of started laughing... poison him... was he always this ridiculous?

"How about this," She started, making her way out of the kitchen "I have some authentic chai tea downstairs in my suitcase, I make that really well if you guys want to mix your tea routine up a little"

John opened his eyes wide and gave Yasim a smile. He had chai tea once before and it was one of the best things he had ever had the pleasure of tasting.

"I'll take that as a yes. Sherlock?"

He said nothing and continued to stare at her.

"I'll take that as a yes as well. Be right back." Yasim made her way through the flat and out the door of 221B.

John got up to fetch his laptop "Nice girl."

Sherlock grunted in response.

"You can at least try being nice to her"

"Why? The sooner she gets used to it the better, I hope she doesn't get her feelings hurt easily. And she better not try to take my skull."

"I hope she throws that bloody thing away." John mumbled.

Yasim came back a few minutes later carrying three tea bags. Sherlock noted she was confident when she entered the kitchen this time, wasting no time getting the kettle ready and measuring the sugar.

"You have cream right?" She asked

"Yes in the frid- wait Yasim!" He added urgently, remembering what was in there, but it was too late, Yasim had the fridge open and was staring at the severed head next to the milk. He cringed waiting for her to scream and run out of the kitchen. But it was silent. Maybe she had fainted? John looked at Sherlock who was smirking. Did he enjoy scaring people half to death?

"Oh hello... So who's this then?" Yasim asked poking at the head with her spoon.

"Uh, I- I don't know." Sherlock answered slightly surprised. Yasim's voice gave no trace of fear or concern. She might as well of been asking about the weather. He got up from his couch and making his way to the kitchen. "I just get them from- oh don't poke at it for gods sake!" He snatched the spoon from her.

"Tata said you did stuff like this, what are trying to find out?"

Sherlock eyed her. No one ever wanted to know about his experiments.

"Hair growth after decapitation." He answered still eyeing her suspiciously.

"Ah, well let me know how that goes." She brushed past Sherlock to grab the milk and moved the head aside to reach the cream. When she turned around both Sherlock and John were staring at her.

"What?" Did she do something wrong?

"Did you just touch it?" John asked

"Well I had to get the cream... he didn't have a disease or something did he?"

"Of course not." Sherlock snapped. "I keep those at Barts."

"Well don't worry then," She told John "I'll wash my hands." she winked at him and made her way to the sink.

After a while the tea was done and Yasim had taken a seat next to Sherlock on his couch. He looked up at her when she sat but said nothing.

John spoke up. "Oh, this is good." He lowered his cup to reveal a little froth mustache over his upper lip. "Where did you learn to make this?"

"India" Yasim answered, handing him a napkin. "There was a widow that I kinda made friends with over there and she taught me how to make so many different things, I wrote it all on my blog."

"Oh goody, another blogger" Sherlock said sarcastically.

John took another sip of his tea "Sherlock has something against blogging."

"It's graffiti with punctuation."

Yasim laughed. Sherlock looked up at her, had he said something funny?

"So Sherlock." She started, meeting his eyes "How did you know I had just been to Greece? How did you know all of what you deduced about me?"

Sherlock scooted to the edge of the couch and sat up straight. He always liked this bit. "It wasn't difficult, there was a ticket to The Acropolis Museum sticking out of your purse. It was from 5 days ago, you wouldn't of had any time to go anywhere in 5 days so you came straight from Greece. Theres a suspicious looking tan line on your left ankle, hardly visible but still there. It looks like it's from a velcro strap, presumably the part of a surfboard that you attach to yourself to keep from losing it. So since you're obviously American that left me with either Hawaii, California or Florida, all popular surfing states. Based on population you were statistically more likely to be from California. You look like you're from the middle east however your features aren't that strong which means you get the genes from only one parent. The ring on your right hand is moonstone, the birthstone for June; which was 8 months ago, about the same time you stopped surfing- and started to travel."

"Wow" Yasim stated when he was finished "You probably get this a lot, but that was amazing."

"Yes, of course it was." He said with the first genuine smile Yasim had seen on his face. "And no, I actually don't get that a lot."

Sherlock picked up his empty cup and went to the kitchen to study the head in his fridge. Yasim watched him get up, not many men interested her. They were were all shallow, predictable and boring. But Sherlock? He was in a class of his own. Sure he was a jerk sometimes... well most of the time, but she couldn't help but think there was more to him.

"Yasim."

She looked up from her tea to find Sherlock staring at her. "Huh?"

"I said 'Will you hold this for me'" He gestured towards the head.

"Oh, sure." She walked to the kitchen table and held the head up-side-down while Sherlock got out a ruler and some dark blue liquid.

Suddenly a phone started to ring. "Oh, sorry" Yasim said about to put down the head.

"Leave it. You can phone back."

"What if its important?"

"You'll find out when you call back."

Yasim sighed as her Pirates of the Caribbean ringtone filled the flat.

"German composers create the finest soundtracks." Sherlock said after the ringing had stopped. He was now pasting the blue concoction on the poor head's hair with a paintbrush. "Not that I actually see the films... I see you like Klaus Badelt"

"I do, though I prefer Hans Zimmer"

Sherlock looked up from his experiment, his face was as expressionless as ever. "As do I."

Yasim smiled and though Sherlock's expression did not change, his face softened.

"That's all Yasim, thank you." He tore his eyes away from her to place his precious possession back in the fridge while Yasim washed her hands. It was getting dark, and she still had plenty of things to do... on top of calling back whoever just phoned her.

"Well I best be turing in then." She said grabbing her phone off the table.

John got up from his laptop to open the door for her. "Oh alright. The tea was splendid by the way. Or as you would say," he added "It was 'the bomb.'"

Yasim rolled her eyes playfully and laughed. "Bye, John. Bye, Sherlock"

Sherlock made a half-hearted waving gesture with his hand. He was now pouring the dark blue liquid into a container with a red liquid and watching it bubble.

"Wow, he actually acknowledged you were leaving." John joked to Yasim "He must really like you."

"Ha, right." Yasim snorted, and made her way down the stairs to 221A.

Sherlock listened to her climb down all 17 steps and close the door to her own flat. Most people in the world he thought annoying, a few he hated and even fewer he actually tolerated and considered them to be somewhat fiends, at that moment he made up his mind that Yasim belonged in the latter category. He couldn't help but think there was more to her...

**A/N- Ok, I forgot to put a disclaimer in my previous chapter so in case you didn't know i don't own Sherlock (believe me if i did we wouldn't have to wait till 2012 for the next season =/) or Pirates of the Caribbean or anything else mentioned here... except for Yasim of course. Now that being said- How do you guys do this? I can't get this right, there's too much dialog, i feel like im writing a script instead of a story and i say 'She' to many times =( *sigh* I would be very grateful if you would give me some advice, tell me what you liked and tell me what you would personally change or would write differently. Special thanks to KSVamp and Hrlyqin!** **R&R!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Shut up John"

"I didn't say anything."

"I know what you're thinking, and stop thinking it"

John gave Sherlock an annoyed look. "Oh really? What am i thinking about?"

"My relationship with 'The woman'. "

John turned to watch London fly past the cab window. "She has a name Sherlock and think about it, she's been here a week and you haven't scared her off... thats saying something. No offense, but not many people can stand you, let alone women, she may be the only chance you have to-"

"Like I said before." Sherlock interrupted, typing away furiously on his backberry. "Not my area." He didn't understand why people were always trying to get him to pursue a relationship. Romantic attachments were nothing but a distraction... and they would end up getting hurt. Anyone close to Sherlock ended up getting hurt. He glanced momentarily at John, remembering the sight of a bomb being strapped to his chest. It would be better for everyone if people just kept their distance from Sherlock Holmes.

The cab pulled up to the Westfield London shopping centre. Sherlock saw the blue flashes of police cars before they even arrived at the parking lot. It was obvious a bomb had gone off, shattered glass covered most of the ground and there was an entire wall missing  
>from the east side of the building. The men were met by DI Lestrade who described the situation to be a suicide bombing.<p>

"Then what do you need me for?" Sherlock asked, passing body bags as he walked. John had gone off to assist the paramedics, before anything he was still a doctor.

"Something doesn't feel right about this, I just want to be sure before I start pointing fingers." Lestrade answered.

Sherlock walked through the gaping hole and entered the shopping center. The bomb wasn't big enough to take the whole building but it would be quite a while before it was open for business again.

"Oi,Freak!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, you didn't have to be a consulting detective to know who that was.

"Donovan, lovely to see you as well."

"What are you doing here, it's obviously a terrorist attack. Muslim kid blows himself up in the name of Allah, end of story."

"Do get her out of here, Greg."

Lestrade paused, trying to think of a way to separate them without undermining Donovan's authority as a member of Scotland yard. Why were those two always at each others throats? "Donovan, come help me take statements will you?" Lestrade lead her out to the street, but not before she shot Sherlock a look of pure spite.

Sherlock walked alone among the rubble searching for clues or anything out of the ordinary. Then something caught his eye.. . bending down he saw it was a coin. Not any coin but a dirham, an Arabic coin. Looking around he came across more. What would scatter them in such a way? He mused. It was as if they were extremely close to the bomb.. . like right next to it. He heard footsteps coming up behind him, he could tell it was John.

"Any luck?" He asked

Sherlock grunted.

"What does that mean?"

Sherlock got up and brushed pass John, handing him a dirham in the process. "Did any security footage survive the blast?"

"That's what i came to tell you actually." he answered, turning the coin around in his hand. "We found some if you want to take a look."

oOo

The footage's quality was horrible at first but after about an hour or so of forensics fretting over it, you could easily distinguish the faces of bypassers. Then they saw him.

"There he his." Lestrade said looking at the screen.

At that moment 5 different heads surrounded the monitor.

"Abad Medina." John started, reading from a folder. "No criminal record, was studying law at Kingston University, attended the Euston Mosque where he was in charge of the funds, girlfriend was a Christina -"

"That's odd" Sherlock interrupted.  
>All heads turned to him. "It's painfully obvious that Christina is a Christian name." He stated simply.<br>"So?" Anderson asked.

"So- obviously Abad wasn't a devout Muslim. They can only marry or date other Muslims. And look at his face." He pointed to the young man with a backpack on the screen. "He's totally calm, he's not nervous or determined.. .. Why would a laxed Muslim go on a suicide mission and why would he show no emotion about it at all? Unless..."

"Unless what, Sherlock?" Lestrade jumped in.

"Unless he didn't know he was carrying a bomb."

Anderson rolled his eyes "How can someone not know he's carrying bloody bomb? It's not like you can slip it into someone's pocket."

Sherlock ignored him, beginning to pace and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Think , Sherlock think! Why would- OH…" He opened his eyes wide. "Of course!"

"What Sherlock?" Lestrade asked, grabbing his shoulders.

"Abad was in charge of the funds at the mosque, which means he deposited the contributions." He turned to Donovan. "Is there a bank in this shopping centre?"

"Yeah, I think so"

"The coins.. they were right next to bomb after all. He didn't realize he was carrying the bomb because he was already carrying something heavy in his backpack. A box or possibly a can full of coins- the donations!"

"Then who put the bomb in the donation bin?" Lestrade asked, beginning to understand.

"It could of been anyone, but one thing is for sure this was not a suicide." Sherlock answered and made his way towards the door. "There's nothing left for me to deduce from here, text me if you get any new leads."

"Will do." Lestrade called back.

Sherlock strode back towards the main road when something on the ground caught his eye. Another coin, but this one was different. He picked it up and studied it, his heart skipped a beat.

"Oi, wait up!" John called running up beside him.

Sherlock quickly stuffed the coin in his coat pocket.

"Ya'know Sherlock, not all of us have long- are you alright?" Sherlock's face was deathly pale.

"What? Don't be daft, John I'm fine." and with that he brushed past the shorter man and hailed a taxi. However that was the farthest thing from the truth, for the coin now in his coat was not a dirham, it wasn't currency at all. Whoever crafted it certainly made it look  
>like a coin from afar, but instead of the face of the queen, it had a heart carved on both sides... a heart among flames.<p>

_"I will burn the heart out of you.."_

oOo

The ride back to 221B was a quiet one. John could tell when something was wrong with Sherlock, but decided not to press the matter.

"Yasim probably can help us out with this case." John said as they were nearing Baker St.

"Not really." Sherlock answered, his mind was still on the coin. Was it time for Moriarty to strike? If so at whom?

"Isn't she Muslim?"

"Of course not."

"How do you know, and don't say because she doesn't wear a hijab, she could just be a 'laxed Muslim' as you call it."

Sherlock gave John his 'are you stupid?' stare. "Her blog, she eats pork. Even laxed Muslims consider the pig to be an unclean thing to eat."

"Ah... wait you read her blog?" John asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and got out of the cab. "Shut up John."

He climbed up the steps of 221b two at a time. John stayed behind to pay the cabbie. Why was he always the one who paid? John walked across the sidewalk to the front door, he hesitated before turning the handle, he didn't know why. Once he stepped inside he felt it… something was off.

"Sherlock?" He called up the steps. There was no answer. His hand self-consciously felt for a gun at his side, but to no avail. He quickly climbed the steps about halfway seeing Sherlock standing in the doorway of their flat. He looked shocked. John had never seen Sherlock look shocked before, he figured it wasn't a good thing. He reached the top of the stairs and saw what Sherlock was looking at. In their time together they had come across smugglers, psychopaths and serial killers but neither of them had ever come across a sight like this...

**A/N- Gotta love cliffhangers =) Well I hope you guys -'chaps' for the Brits- like it. Not my best chapter but do forgive me, I'm not the best at writing the crime scene bits. Thanks to those who are reviewing. Special thanks again to Hrlyqin, you will probably see a significant drop in grammatical errors from now on, thanks to her. Pleeeease review *puppy eyes*  
><strong>

**Don't own and all that jazz... **


	4. Chapter 4

The flat... was... spotless. The clutter was gone and in it's place were alphabetized books and organized insect collections. John was in awe, he had never seen the flat so clean. Yasim walked- or rather danced out of the kitchen, earphones blaring in her ears, she jumped when she saw them.

"Jeez, you guys scared me!" she said, a little to loud, trying to speak over her music.

"Wow, Yasim-" John started.

"Where is my dust?" Sherlock interrupted.

Yasim pulled out her earphones, did she just hear that right? "What?"

"My dust, where is it?" he stated again, frantically rummaging around his desk.

"In the garbage bin where it should be-"

"No, no, no, dust is an important part of my filing system. I can date any document by the thickness of it"

"But the dust was this thick." She made a gesture with her hands.

"Yes, that would be December 7th 2010."

Yasim rolled her eyes. Of course the man couldn't just write the date on the paper... that was too easy.

"Yasim," John started again. "This is great and everything but... why did you clean our flat?"

The young woman shuffled her feet and shoved her hands in her pockets, much like a child does when they're caught doing something they aught not. "I was bored..." She answered

"Bored?" Well at least she didn't take to shooting walls.

"When you're traveling you're always doing something. Even something as simple as getting lunch can take hours when you have to go and catch it, some days you didn't eat at all. I mean, sure it was hard, but every day was different, it was exciting and dangerous. Here when you get hungry all you do is go to the fridge and your food is just... there... staring at you." she flopped on her tenants' couch in a dramatic fashion that John knew all too well. "Its annoying!"

"Why don't you try shooting at something, perhaps a wall?" Sherlock suggested. He knew that wasn't something normal people did to cope with boredom however, he mostly just asked to watch John's reaction.

"I thought about that... but my bow and arrows haven't gotten here yet."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her. Alright, maybe she didn't exactly belong in the "normal" category.

"What? No- Sherlock, don't give her any ideas."

Ah, there was the John he knew, always getting flustered about something. At that moment John's mobile rang, he excused himself and stepped outside of the flat. Sherlock could tell it was Sarah calling by the way John's pupils dilated when he saw the caller ID. He pushed Yasim's legs off of one side of the couch and sat down. "So when will the rest of your illegal possessions arrive?"

"They're not illegal Sherlock, I just mailed them to myself because they'll be hell to get past customs."

"What are they then?"

"Why should I'll tell you?"

"Fine don't tell me, but you know I'll find out." He answered, smirking. Oh how Yasim would love to wipe that pompous, narcissistic look off his face. Then an idea came to her...she turned so she was now laying on her back and placed her legs on Sherlock's lap.

His face was priceless. He sat wide- eyed for a moment wondering what to do. Then he reached for his phone. What was he going to do, call John to come and save him? Three seconds later Yasim's phone beeped, she had a text message.

_What are you doing? -SH_

"Really Sherlock, you couldn't just ask me that?" There was no answer, he just kept staring straight ahead of him. Yasim sighed and texted him back.

_I'm laying down...- Yaz_

_Yes but why are your legs on me?-SH_

Yasim flashed him a devilish grin...

_I'm sorry, am i bothering you? -Yaz_

He paused for a moment before texting back.

_I don' t know.- SH_

She mused over this and glanced at Sherlock, now he was staring intently down at her legs, deep in thought. This was not going according to plan... she had wanted to make _him_ feel uncomfortable, at least she was wearing jeans. Then a question popped into her head, should she ask him? Would he get angry with her? Would he even answer?

_Do you have a girlfriend?-Yaz_

Sherlock sighed. He knew this was coming. He started to type 'Not my area-' when he got another text.

_Or boyfriend... -Yaz_

He rolled his eyes. He saw that was coming as well. He had in mind to type 'Not my areas.' when he found his thumbs had a mind of their own...

_No... I end up hurting the ones i get close to.-SH_

Yasim looked up at him. He was staring out the window. Sherlock didn't show emotion, but she could of sworn she saw just the slightest twinge of... sadness.

_Don't you ever get lonely? -Yaz_

Why was he talking with her about this? He barley knew the woman. But yet again he found his thumbs moving themselves across his keyboard. He felt strangely at ease with her, his walls were coming down and he didn't know why.

_I'm a selfish person Yasim. One man is already constantly put in harms way on my behalf, and I knew he would be. I dare not get anyone else caught up in my lifestyle. -SH_

_I don' t believe that, everyone needs someone there for them, and you cared enough to seek out someone who could handle the danger. John's a soldier... and I'm sure he never regrets meeting you, or becoming your friend. I know I wouldn't ... and you still never answered my question, are you lonely?- Yaz_

Yasim met Sherlock's eyes. Oh, those cold, deducing, beautiful eyes... he drew in a breath to answer when just then John burst through the front front door.

"-oh I do too. By the way who was that who called that day?" Sherlock asked Yasim, giving her a look to play along. His walls were up once again it seemed.

"Umm I- I dont know it was from a blocked number." She took her legs off Sherlock and sat correctly on the couch.

John probably would of questioned why they were there in the first place, but he was too exited to even notice. "You will never guess what just happened." He exclaimed.

"Sarah just won free last minute tickets to a sold out concert." Sherlock answered getting up and walking to the kitchen, stepping right over the coffee table in the process.

John was taken back for a moment. "There is no way you could have deduced that."

"I didn't." Sherlock got grapes out of the fridge and started to cut them in half. "Do you realize how loud you talk when you're on the phone, John?"

"Oh." If he heard that conversation with Sarah who knows what other phone calls he's been eavesdropping on. Damn these thin walls. "Well, she won four tickets to the National... and they're for tonight."

Yasim's stomach flipped. She loved the National, but what if John didn't mean to invite her, he had other friends after all... didn't he? Besides she wouldn't mind staying with Sherlock and helping him with... well whatever he was doing.

"Yasim would like to go." Sherlock was now placing the grape halfs in a plate full of a white powder. "I heard that band through her earphones."

She didn't want John to feel pressured to bring her along. "That's ok. I mean I'm sure-"

"Oh don't worry I was going to ask you... you and Sherlock, that is."

Yasim and John looked at Sherlock as he put the plate in the microwave and set the timer for 30 seconds.

"I'm busy, John." He had far too much on his mind to be gadding about. Not only did he have to deal with the coin and Moriarty but now it seemed he had a brand new distraction to disquiet him.

"We need to use all four tickets Sherlock." John replied.

"No-" Sherlock said sternly, but before he was able to get another word out there was a loud bang and microwave door flew open, smoke escaping from inside.

"What in bloody hell was- oh god that stinks." John covered his nose with the top of his shirt and opened the window. Yasim made her way to the other one, coughing, and opened it as well. In a matter of seconds that whole flat was engulfed by the horribly foul smell. Sherlock eyes even stated to water, he suddenly grabbed his coat and rushed out of the flat. "Anyone else fancy going to a concert?"

**A/N- If that dust bit in the beginning sounds familiar its because its from an old Sherlock Holmes movie (from the 80's maybe?) I've always loved that scene. Thanks to my beta reader and everyone who's reviewing. (You seriously don't know how much reviews mean to me... i actually do the victory dance when i see i have a new one)**

** Bandstud90- No, actually I got the inspiration from an episode of Lie to me, both awesome shows. =)**

**P.S If you're wanting to know about some of the music mentioned in the Fanfic, there's a playlist im making for it as i go along (it has to be spaced weird or else it wont show up, just delete the spaces once you copy and paste it.)- **

**www. playlist. com /playlist/22604044043**


	5. Chapter 5

_"Im a confident liar, Have my head in the oven so you know where I'll be, I try to be more romantic, I wanna believe in everything you believe, I was less than amazing, I do not know what all the troubles are for, I fall asleep in your branches, you're the only thing I ever want anymore."_

Sherlock gave a vexing sigh. How could anyone possibly find this entertaining? He looked over to his left and spotted John and Sarah. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, however only Sarah was genuinely interested in the music, John on the other hand; he was more interested in Sarah. He would be looking at the band then look over at her, he would see that she was smiling and that would make him smile. Interesting. Sherlock then felt a brush on his shoulder, to his right Yasim was swaying with the beat. Her hair was halfway up with stray curls cascading down her face. She caught Sherlock looking at her. He quickly looked away and pretended to be interested in the song playing.

"This song's one of my favorites." she said, leaning close to his ear so she wouldn't have to shout over the music.

"It's completely absurd." he answered, "None of their lyrics make sense."

"It's not supposed to make sense." Couldn't this man stop looking at things from a literal standpoint for five seconds? "Well... except for the bit about heads in the oven... that's probably daily thing for you."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the bearded man singing on stage. Suddenly an uneasy feeling came to him, like he was being watched. He whipped around and scanned the faces of the crowd of people behind him. Nothing out of the ordinary. He faced front again but the feeling was still there. He decided to check one more time when he saw him. Sherlock's blood ran cold. He began to make his way to the exit of the venue, bumping into people and getting many aggravated shouts in response. He burst through a double door and came to a stop near the back entrance of the building. It was quiet, just a dripping sound and muffled music making it's way to his ear. Sherlock forced himself to calm down. It was possible that the man had no interest in him, it had been years after all... Suddenly he heard another sound, footsteps. For a spit second his heart- rate quickened but slowed again once he realized the person was wearing high heels.

"Yasim-" he called before he even saw her turn the corner.

"Sherlock? What's wrong? One second you're next to me and then you leg it."

Sherlock looked at her sternly. "You shouldn't of followed me."

"Well I didn't know what was wrong... are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No, not really." he answered, turning his head around the corner to see if anyone else had followed.

"I'm not stupid Sherlock. Who's after you?"

The man met her eyes and realized there was no getting around her question. "Someone I hoped never to see again." he said cryptically.

"Oh- that says a lot, what, is he trying to kill you or something?"

"Of course not... well... actually I suppose you could say that."

"Oh my god, Sherlock we have to-" Yasim stopped when she heard the double doors down the hall open.

Sherlock knew who it was. Before she could protest he grabbed Yasim's hand and lead her behind him. The footsteps grew louder and a man turned the corner to face them. He was a tall man, however not as tall as Sherlock, and looked to be in his late 40's.

"Sherlock Holmes." he said in a heavy Scottish accent. "I thought it was you, what a pleasant surprise. How long has it been? Ten years?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the man. "Alan Harris," he replied in his usual bored tone "I see you've somehow kept out of prison."

"Oh, come now Sherlock, is that any way to treat an old friend? What happened to you?" He eyed Yasim suspiciously "The girl not approve of your... habits?"

"Who is this?" Yasim whispered in Sherlock's ear.

"Nobody." He answered, his eyes never leaving Alan's.

"Nobody?" Alan said with an exaggerated look of hurt on his face. "I'm crushed Sherlock, really I am... If it wasn't the girl that kept you from comin' what was it? You find another dealer?"

Yasim's eyes grew wide, she looked at Sherlock.

"I got clean... and I want you out of my life."

"Bullshit," he spat, "You of all people getting clean? No Holmes, your habit isn't dead, it's merely sleeping." He pulled out a syringe from his coat pocket.

Sherlock's palms immediately began to sweat and his heart rate went through the roof. He tried not to look at it. "Put that away Alan."

"Liquefied cocaine." he said proudly. "Your favorite if I remember correctly."

Yasim pulled at Sherlock's coat. "Let's go." she said.

Sherlock didn't move. He stood staring at the syringe.

"I said let's go!" she practically yelled in his ear. This snapped him out of his daze.

"I'll tell ya what." Alan said slowly making his way towards the detective. "I usually don't do this but since we have such a history, I'll leave this here for ya." He placed the syringe on the polished concrete floor.

Sherlock looked down at the drug then up at the man who placed it there. "Leave." he said in a voice barley louder than a whisper.

Alan did what he was told, but before leaving he called back to Sherlock "You must be so bored... and if you want to stop being bored, you know where to find me." and with that he disappeared behind the corner. After he heard the double doors close Sherlock slumped down against the wall. All he could hear was his heart beating in his ears, and all he could think about was that syringe laying not even 6 feet away from him. Then he couldn't take it anymore; he got up and walked towards the syringe.

_"Sherlock!"_ He heard a voice call, but it sounded so far away... like he heard it while underwater.

He picked the drug up. It felt so familiar in his hands... even after 10 years. Just this once, just this last time...

Suddenly it was knocked out of his hand and it fell to the floor, rolling to a corner. "Are you insane?" Yasim yelled, standing between him and the drug.

"Yes." Sherlock answered simply and pushed past her.

Yasim was at loss for words. He was actually gonna do it! He needed to snap out of it... he needed a shock. Just then Yasim remembered an episode from Doctor Who she watched the other day. "Oh god I hope this works..." she said to herself, and with that she grabbed Sherlock by his coat and kissed him.

At first nothing changed, then suddenly Sherlock grabbed Yasim's shoulders and yanked himself back. They stared blankly at each other for a moment.

"Sherlock?" Had it worked?

"What are you doing?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing at her.

Yasim breathed a sigh of relief. "Wow, you didn't text me this time? We're making progress." she answered sarcastically.

Sherlock looked at Yasim then down at the syringe on the floor. For a second she thought he was going to lunge for it again.

Sherlock then let go of her shoulders and casually walked towards the double doors. "You coming?" he asked without looking back.

She stood in shock for a moment, looking down at the drug. Did that just happen? She heard the double doors open and Sherlock walk back to the concert. She rolled her eyes and ran after the man. She was _so_ never kissing him again...

**A/N- Ok so here's the fifth chapter. I had the most fun writing this for some reason. I hope at least some of you get the Doctor Who reference, Yasim was refering to the episode where the 10th doctor and Donna meet Agatha Christie and Donna has to kiss the Doctor to give him a 'shock' as part of some deal to heal him. I don't know if anyone is noticing this but I'm sneaking in some lines/facts from the original books in here. In this chapter Alan tells Sherlock that his "habit isn't dead, it's merely sleeping." that line is taken from The Adventure of the Missing Three-Quarter. See if you can spot any more references to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work. Thanks a bunches to Hrlyqin and those who are reviewing. I would say if you review I'll give you a cookie, but i dont really like cookies... no, you will get fish fingers and custard! (only those who watch Doctor Who will get that btw.)**

**P.S In case you haven't figured it out by now, i don't own this.  
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	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock awoke with a start, sweat dampening the curls on his forehead. He looked at the clock, 8_:21. _He must of been tired, he slept for a whole 3 hours. The man sat up straight and ruffled his hair. He'd been dreaming obviously, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what about; Moriarty, cocaine... Yasim? Perhaps all three. 'That would be an interesting day' he thought to himself. As far as he knew he wasn't going out anywhere but Sherlock (being Sherlock) pulled on his trousers and slipped on a dress shirt, buttoning it up on the way downstairs to the kitchen. John was sitting at the table reading the paper and sipping on a cuppa, and he (being anyone else but Sherlock) simply had on boxers and a grey T-shirt.

"Ran out of cupboard space did you?" he asked Sherlock without looking up from his paper.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"Look in the freezer." John gestured towards the fridge.

Sherlock stared at the fridge, then back at John. Was this a trick? No, John wasn't showing any signs of lying. He made his way to the freezer and opened the door.

"These aren't mine." Sherlock stated simply

"Jeans don't grow in freezers, Sherlock, and they're not mine."

"Think, John. How many pairs of jeans do I own?"

John thought about this for a moment. The truth was, he had only seen Sherlock wear jeans once or twice, and there were at least 5 pairs of jeans in the freezer. But if they weren't his and they weren't Sherlock's then...

"Mornin' gents." called a chipper voice coming through the front door. "I saw that you guys- oh excuse me, _blokes _were out of milk so got you some, but don't get used to it, I'm not your housekeeper." she set her bag of shopping on the counter.

"G-goodmorning Yasim." John stuttered, scooting himself as close to the table as he could in attempt to hide the fact that he was in his underwear.

"What are your jeans doing in my freezer?" Sherlock asked, getting right to the point.

"Oh! Right sorry bout that, yeah my fridge broke."

"Oh that clears it up." piped up John, right before sneaking off to put on trousers.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Once again... why are your jeans in my freezer?"

"To clean them, you haven't heard? Putting pants in the freezer gets them cleaner than washing them."

"First of all your 'pants' aren't in the freezer, we would be having a very different conversation if that was the case."

Yasim shot him a confused look.

"Pants are underwear Yasim, you really need to learn theses things."

"Oh" she said, blushing. "I do need to learn British lingo, you should of seen me trying to distinguish between chips, fries and crisps at the market this morning." She started getting various groceries out of her bag and placing then in her tenant's refrigerator. "Fridge broken, remember?" she stated before Sherlock had a chance to protest.

"But you can't just-"

"Oh let it be Sherlock," John interrupted, coming down the stairs now fully clothed. "It's not like there's anything in there anyway. But the jeans however..."

"I told you its to clean then, and they're in baggies anyways."

"That's highly improbable, Yasim." Sherlock stated "The temperature in the freezer is only -17 degrees celsius, and most bacteria can withstand temperatures far colder than that."

"Why dont you just conduct one of your experiments? If you prove me wrong you will never find my pants in the freezer again."

Pants? John looked towards the refrigerator in horror.

"I mean jeans, John." Yasim cut in quickly snickering. "Sorry."

Sherlock sighed, he saw no point in conducting a superfluous experiment, butit _would_ keep Yasim's articles of clothing out of their fridge. "Fine." he huffed, throwing himself down on his couch.

"Oh get up will you." Yasim walked to the couch and pulled Sherlock's arm "I need you guys to help me with my packages, they arrived today."

"John can help you." Sherlock stated, still lying limp on his couch.

John got up from his chair. "I have to get to the clinic soon but I can help you if it doesn't take long." Yasim smiled at him, it was funny how John and Sherlock were complete opposites and yet the best of friends.

"Thank you, John. You are quite the gentleman." she turned to Sherlock. "You on the other hand... OK, look I have something that you would like to see and possibly experiment on, as long as you don't damage it."

"So that's what you're putting on your bookcase, its from the Amazon I presume."

"Yeah, how did-"

"You also have a package of various weapons and one of a live specimen, her name being 'Princess'.

Yasim stared at Sherlock in disbelief then narrowed her eyes. "... Did you hack into my email account?"

Sherlock smiled and sprung out of the couch. "Well boxes won't move themselves, plus I can't wait to see my present!"

"It's not yours Sherlock!" Yasim called after him, but it was not use, he was already out the door and halfway down the stairs, John slugging behind as usual.

oOo

"Blimey." John said putting the last box down on the floor of Yasim's flat. "That weighed a bit more than it looked, how heavy is that?"

"About 40 pounds." Yasim answered getting out a pocket knife.

"Alright, thats what... 15 kilos?"

"18.14 actually." Sherlock was sitting on Yasim's coffee table eyeing the box with holes suspiciously. "and you might want to step back, John."

Yasim started to cut at the tape on top of the box carefully, John looking over her shoulder as she did so. "So what kind of animal you got in there?" he asked "Princess... it sounds like a cat name, that's what I thought was in there at first, but 18 kilos?"

"Well, they both eat mice" she answered "John, Sherlock, meet Princess." and with that she pulled out a huge boa constrictor.

"BLOODY HELL!" John shrieked, backing up and tripping over a pile of books. "That's a snake..."

"Amazing observation John." Sherlock said unimpressed. He turned to Yasim. "That better not be my present."

"I'd never give Princess away." Yasim answered, fondly putting the snake around her neck, she unintentionally glanced at the smaller box next to Sherlock on the coffee table.

Sherlock noticed this and looked beside him. "Oh this-"

"Like I said," Yasim interrupted "It's not yours you can just borrow it."

Sherlock eyed the box much like a child would a wrapped gift... and he tore it up like a child as well. He opened the top flap and stared at the box's contents. A smile crept up on his face.

"Well what is it?" John asked, not many things made Sherlock happy. It would have to be something either life threatening, illegal, or just flat out weird.

Sherlock reached in the box and pulled out the object by its... hair?

"Why, it's a shrunken head!" He exclaimed taking his magnifying glass out and examining it. "So this is what you got in the Amazon."

"I couldn't resist." Yasim said excitedly. Not many people shared her love for the obscure and here was one of them living right above her.

John just stood there switching glances between Sherlock and Yasim. "Good god theres two of you..." he said under his breath. He looked at his watch. "SHIT!" he shouted. He was going to be late for work... again. "Gotta run, don't... blow anything up please."

"Can't promise anything." Sherlock answered.

John rolled his eyes and exited 221A, leaving Yasim and Sherlock alone in the flat.

"So where's the new fridge?" Sherlock asked, getting up from the coffee table.

Yasim gave him a confused look "I told you it's broken, and I didn't get a new one yet."

"Nonsense. There are new scuff marks by your door, and by the kitchen entryway. But no fridge, where is it?"

She was silent.

"You're hiding something." Sherlock stepped closer "you looked away and to the left. You're trying to make up a story in your mind."

Yasim opened to her mouth to protest but shut it realizing it was no use. "How did it feel always knowing what you got for Christmas?"

"Never received anything, and don't change the subject."

"Ok fine," Yasim sighed "I got you something."

"Why would you get me a-"

Yasim quickly put her hand over his mouth.

"Dont ruin it! I know you probably already know what it is but I want to give it to you like a proper gift."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her.

"Ok, close your eyes." Yasim said smiling.

The man did nothing and continued to stare at her like she was crazy.

"Just do it."

Sherlock gave in and reluctantly did so, grumbling in the process.

Yasim took her hand away from his mouth and took him by his own hand, guiding him around tables and such. If Sherlock's memory of the layout was correct, she was leading him to… the spare bedroom. Wait- bedroom!... oh dear.

**A/N- Yeah this is kind-of a space filler (I actually bored myself a bit writing it, I hope you found it a bit more interesting.) Now does anyone here actually do that? Freeze their jeans i mean, I wonder if it actually works... **

**Now a couple chapters ago Sherlock was putting cut grapes in the microwave. Its actually really interesting little experiment (minus the white powder of course... whatever it was). If you cut the grapes in half and put them flat-side-down on a glass plate, it will actually emit plasma bursts after a few seconds of being in microwave, quite a light show.**

**Thank you sooo very much to all who are reviewing, and for those who rather not have fish fingers and custard; i suppose i can get you a cookie if you review. =)**


	7. Chapter 7

"OK, open your eyes!"

Sherlock did what he was told and in the middle of the room was a small freezer.

"It's for your experiments. I know it probably gets annoying for both you and John... your fridge being constantly cluttered with body parts and all. He even said one time you filled the bathtub with ice and put a whole body in there, this isn't big enough for that of course... maybe if you chop it up-"

Sherlock was speechless. This wasn't the first time he'd been given a gift of course. Mycroft, Mum and friends of the family had given things on special occasions but nothing he actually used, what was he supposed to do with cufflinks?

Yasim saw that Sherlock wasn't saying anything. Maybe this was a stupid idea, I mean c'mon a freezer? The man wore a $2,000 coat for crying out loud. "Well..." She started "It's not really the fanciest present..."

"No, it's not." Sherlock answered

Yasim looked down at her converse. "I-"

"Thank goodness," he interrupted "Everything

I've ever received has been from pompous idiots who didn't know a thing about me... or even liked me for that matter." He opened the top of the freezer and looked inside. "Yes this will do nicely- Wait... if you had a freezer why on earth did you insist on storing your jeans in mine?"

"Well technically this is your freezer too, and plus I figured you'd want it uncontaminated." she answered. "So... you like it then?"

"It's very," Sherlock searched for the right word. "practicable."

"Right... I'll take that as a yes then." Yasim said with a smile, knowing that was the closest thing to 'thank you' she was gonna get. "You need help getting that upstairs?"

oOo

"Are you sure John wouldn't mind having that thing in his room?" Yasim asked, closing John's door and walking with Sherlock downstairs to the living area.

"Oh, I'm sure he would mind. " Sherlock answered with a smirk. "...very much, but its not like there's room anywhere else." He looked around the flat, every corner was filled.

"Couldn't you get rid of some of this junk- I mean rubbish?" she asked, picking up lizard's dried shed skin.

Sherlock looked up at Yasim. "Ah, I see you're learning British 'lingo' as you call it, but no. Everything here has a place and a purpose."

Yasim opened her mouth to answer when she was cut off by a muffled Pirates of the Caribbean ringtone emerging from the ground floor. "I gotta get that, uhh I'll see you later then." Sherlock didn't reply, he knew she would be up in his flat again in a matter of minutes.

The young woman reached her mobile as soon as it finished ringing. She flipped it open:

UNKNOWN NUMBER

That was the third time this week alone an unknown caller had phoned her. She snapped it closed and walked over to pick up her umbrella that was leaning against her front door, she was always leaving things about. Maybe it was someone from America. No, her father had called before and it showed his- wait a second... she examined the umbrella in her hands. It was a plain thing, simple and black with a dark wood handle... it wasn't hers.

"Love what you've done with the place." said a smug voice from behind her.

She whipped around to come face to face with man in a suit. Yasim had lightning reflexes and luckily her box of weapons was lying nearby. She quickly lunged for it to grab her cutlass sword, but the box was empty.

"Interesting, your choice of weapons." The man spoke up again. "Swords, bow and arrows... even an Arabian dagger, but no guns. Why?"

Yasim tightened her grip around the umbrella, it would have to do if she needed to defend herself. "I don't like guns." she answered, "a monkey can point and pull a trigger, there's no art in using it."

"I see." the man answered simply. He looked Yasim up and down. She couldn't believe it... was he checking her out?

"Get out!" she spat.

"Why don't you call for Sherlock?" the man asked, ignoring her demand. "You know he'd be here in an instant if you were ever in any danger."

"I can take care of myself." Did he know Sherlock? If he did, Yasim got the feeling they weren't on the best of terms.

"I can see that. You're an excellent swordswoman. When did you first start fencing? Around ten years of age?"

Yasim furrowed her eyebrows, who was this guy? "Eleven actually. How did you know?"

"The way you're standing. You're positioning your feet with your leading foot pointed directly at me and your back foot is at a right angle. It's either the first stance to parrying or a ballet position... and I hardly think you're about to break out in interpretive dance. Your stance is also completely natural, I don't believe you even realize you're doing it, which shows me you've been fencing for quite a while, most likely since you were a child. "

Yasim let go of one end of the umbrella and leaned on it like a cane. "You're related to Sherlock aren't you?"

He stretched out his hand to her, "Mycroft Holmes," he said with a smile "Sherlock's brother."

"Ah, you're the one who's been calling me" Yasim grinned herself and shook his hand "Yasim Hudson. John said he had a brother, thank you for not kidnapping me by the way."

"Oh, John does like to bring up our first meeting." Mycroft answered with a smirk. Ah, now she saw the resemblance. Not that the brothers really looked alike, but they both carried themselves the same way... and had the same expression on their face when they were up to something.

"I'll take you up to see Sherlock, if you'd like." Yasim told him, opening the door and giving him back his umbrella.

Mycroft thanked Yasim and flowed her up the stars, glancing at Princess before he exited her flat.

"Go away Mycroft!" Sherlock called from 221B before they even had a chance to knock on the door.

"Oh, quit being a baby Sherlock!" Yasim called back. There was no answer. She rolled her eyes and pulled out a key, one of the perks of being landlady. She opened the door to find Sherlock sprawled out on the couch, his long gangly legs hanging over the side of it.

"Your brother." she announced.

"Your bow arrived, Yasim. Do me a favour and shoot him." Sherlock said.

"Lovely to see you as well, Sherlock." Mycroft walked over to the chair next to the fire place and sat down, moving the flag pillow aside before he did so.

Yasim felt a bit out of place, she looked back and forth between the two brothers. They obviously did not get along too well. "Well... I'll be downstairs then." She said breaking the awkward silence. "If you try to kill each other try not to get any blood on my carpet, will you." She closed the door behind her.

"No." Sherlock said without even glancing at his brother.

"I didnt come here to ask you anything," Mycroft sighed "I just came to talk..."

"Since when do you come here to talk?"

"I'm worried about you, Sherlock." Mycroft answered in his calm, collected tone.

The man rolled his eyes, "I'm perfectly able to take care of myself, thank you."

Mycroft smirked. "You sound like Yasim... you two are very much alike actually."

Sherlock sprung up to a sitting position. "What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing, she just seems to have an attraction to... cold-blooded creatures." He raised an eyebrow towards Sherlock's direction.

Sherlock got up to fetch his violin. "I have a feeling you're not talking about her snake." he said, looking out the window and plucking at the violin strings.

Mycroft was silent for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. "What are your... intentions with-

"My so called 'intentions' are none of your concern!" snapped Sherlock, his eyes ice blue. Mycroft was taken aback for a moment. Sherlock's eyes often changed colour with his mood, and the last time Mycroft saw his eyes this light was during the argument they had when he first discovered Sherlock's drug addiction years ago.

"So you admit you have feelings for this woman?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes

"Don't deny it Sherlock you tolerate very few people. At the very least you find her intriguing... you know it's funny, Mummy and I always thought you'd end up with a woman who went to Cambridge, someone with your level of intellect. You do know she's never been to a university?"

"Ah you did a background check I see." His eyes were back to their usual deep blue. "You do realize it's usually the landlady that does a background check on her tenants, not the tenant's brother that does one on the landlady."

"Well I had to see what you were were getting yourself into... perhaps even from a literal standpoint."

Sherlock glared at his brother, Mycroft meeting his eyes with equal intensity. When he spoke Sherlock's voice was dangerously low "I am only going to tell you this once Mycroft. I have no feelings for that woman. She is my landlady and acquaintance, nothing more."

Mycroft got up from his chair and made for the door. "Then perhaps I misread you." He said, knowing full well that was not the case. "Good day Sherlock." and he left without another word.

Mycorft and his damn spying. Sherlock faced his fireplace where his skull was planted on the mantle. It almost looked as if it was taunting him, wearing the same eerie grin as it has had for years, and would for eternity... Sherlock walked over to the fireplace and turned it around so it was facing the wall.

Why did Yasim affect him the way she did? He actually enjoyed being with her... and why wouldn't he? She was clever and interesting, not to mention- Sherlock caught himself before he was able to think of the word 'beautiful'. No, he couldn't think like that, relationships clouded your judgment and caused you to act irrationally. He was nothing more than a machine... one who never until now longed to be human.

**A/N- This chapter is bollocks (i love saying that word... bollocks... or naff... do people actually say that?) I've been suffering from massive writers block so PLEASE forgive me for _another_ filler chapter. I promise things will get more exiting, Yasim _will_ meet Moriarty soon and Sherlock just might loose his mind (in quite a literal scene i might add.) A big, huge massive thank you to Hrlyqin, she helped me incorporate Mycroft into the story; something I was having trouble with on my own, and for her other ideas, thanks love =) I know this chapter in particular went by kinda fast and again i apologize for that, if anyone wants give me some pointers/comments/ideas/concerns please do so (I promise I won't get offended, I'm new at this remember** **i _need_ feedback) Thank you to all my readers for bearing with me! R&R!  
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	8. Chapter 8

"JOHN!"

"John, I need my blanket!"

"JOOOOHN!"

Sherlock sighed. John must have left for Sarah's already. It was an exceptionally cold day for March, and the rain certainly didn't help the situation either. Even with Sherlock laying on the floor right in front of the fire he was still freezing. He reached for his mobile in his pocket.

_John, come quick I need you!- SH_

_I am **not** giving you the combination to my safe, Sherlock. Remember what Lestrade said about you handling guns...- JW_

_Oh, don't be daft It's not like I don't already know it; 10-1-13 = J-A-M. Really, John, use your imagination next time. But no, it's about a case actually- SH_

_Will you quit doing that! _

_What kind of case?- JW_

_Just a case... - SH_

_... no, Sherlock. I'm not falling for that again. Now please let me be, I'm in the middle of something. - JW_

_But... it **is** a case... it will be a case of pneumonia if you don't come. I need you John, please :( - SH_

_Nice try- JW_

Sherlock threw his phone at the bookcase.

"YASIM!"

No, that wouldn't work, she left earlier. Why did he notice Yasim leave but not John, that was odd... He would of texted her as well but he had already disposed of his mobile device. How dare they leave him alone to freeze to death.

Sherlock finally decided that the cold was too much to tolerate and got up to fetch his blanket from his room. He avoided looking at his bedside cabinet, for there laid the coin Moriarty had left him; untouched for over a month. Why wasn't he making his move, what was he waiting for? Moriarty's patience was pestiferous. Sherlock grabbed his blanket and headed back to the fire, hearing the front door slam shut as he did so, followed by a soft _thud_. According to the sound, the person weighed approximately 54 kilos so that would make it...

"Yasim?" Sherlock called from his living room. There was no answer. Something was wrong; there were no footsteps either.

Sherlock rushed down the stairs to the entryway, where he found a drenched and half-unconscious Yasim slumped against the wall. "Yasim?" he called again, touching her cheek, she was as cold as ice. "No..." he picked her up and carried her to his flat. He searched on his coffee table for his mobile, where was that bloody- oh, right bookcase.

_John! I need you NOW- SH_

He waited a minute… two minutes, there was no answer. Sherlock cursed and phoned the Doctor.

"Damn it Sherlock, what is it now?"

"It's Yasim, she just came in from outside freezing cold and soaking wet. She won't respond to anything I say."

"What? Take her temperature, and hurry"

Sherlock rummaged through his cupboard for the thermometer. Nicotine patches... more nicotine patches, cyanide (he was wondering where he put that) ... ah! The thermometer!

"33.4 degrees Celsius"

"Mild hypothermia." diagnosed John over the phone. "Sherlock, I'm on the other side of London. I won't get there in time to be of any use, I need you to listen to me carefully."

Sherlock nodded as if John could see.

"Start the fire and place Yasim as close as you can to it."

"I'm not an imbecile John, I already figured that out." Sherlock heard John let out a frustrated sigh.

"Fine, now I need you to dry her off and put her in some warm clothing"

"But she's practically unconscious, how is she supposed to accomplish that?"

"No Sherlock you didn't hear me. YOU need dry her off and YOU need to get her in some warm clothing."

Sherlock's head snapped up. "Me, as in physically remove her articles of clothing?"

"No, Sherlock use your Jedi powers to remove them with the force, _yes __physically __remove__ them__ as __in__ take __them __off __for __her._ You can keep her knickers on if they aren't that wet."

Sherlock was about to protest when he heard a violent cough coming from Yasim who was now starting to hyperventilate.

"Oh- fine, fine… what do I do after that?"

"Just make sure she's warm, make sure her neck and head are extra covered. When she comes to, make her some tea. If you work fast she'll be as good as new in a few hours. Keep me posted on her condition."

Sherlock hung up and walked over to Yasim. She had stopped hyperventilating but was breathing heavily. He sat next to her and removed her coat, throwing it aside where it landed with a _splat_. Next came her jacket and soggy scarf. He hesitated a moment before removing her blouse. Its not that he didn't want to, it was that he did, might, it needed more analysis... Sherlock slipped her blouse over her head, trying not to stare at her delicate lace bra after he did so. She inhaled sharply as his hands grazed her waist. Her jeans were a bit more difficult. He had a hard time removing them without dragging down her pants in the process. But before long he was able to successfully dry her off and wrap her tightly in his own blue dressing gown, and thick wool blanket. He sat behind her and gently combed out her hair so it would dry, and found one of John's winter hats to keep her head warm. Her breathing and temperature were soon back to normal.

Sherlock sat in the chair near the fireplace counting Yasim's breaths. She was going to be OK. He had never been so relieved in his life, if he lost Yasim, he never would of been able to forgive himself... Sherlock gave a frustrated sigh, why did he care so much?

_All Yasim could remember was the cold, she couldn't think straight. After she stepped in the door the world went white, then... warmth. Not from a fire or a coat but from a touch. She was numb when a fire started on her cheek, she felt herself being lifted and slowly, over time, the warmth spread to rest of her body, the fiery sensation taking over once more starting at her waist._

Yasim's eyes fluttered open, half expecting to be in her own bed, the events of the past few hours being just a dream. She stared at the ceiling for a moment before looking to her right to find Sherlock in his chair staring intently at her.

"2,856." Sherlock said without leaving her eyes.

The woman furrowed her eyebrows in confusion "What?"

"Your breat- nothing. I see you've recovered."

Yasim sat up realizing too late all she had on was a robe and thick blanket over her. "What? Where the hell are my clothes?" she asked trying desperately to cover back up. She shot an accusing look at Sherlock.

"They're not dry yet." He motioned towards her articles of clothing spread out on the steps that lead upstairs.

It was then that she realized what had happened... Sherlock had just saved her life.

"Oh." was all she could say.

"John said you should be fine by now, just to drink something warm and keep moving… Oh, and by the way; you're an idiot, what on earth were you thinking?"

Yasim piped up to defend herself "It wasn't raining when I left. I was going to meet some friends for coffee-"

"Friends?" Sherlock interrupted

"Yes Sherlock, friends. Just because you don't have a life doesn't mean that everyone that lives in the same building as you must suffer the same fate. You know one of them actually; her name is Molly, really nice girl. John introduced us a while ago... Anyways, after coffee I was walking back home when it started to rain, I wasn't that far so I decided just to make a run for it."

Sherlock flashed her his signature expression. "Make a run for it? In the pouring rain? In -10 degree weather?"

"Well, Japan was colder... I- I don't know what happened this time."

Sherlock thought for a moment. "Did you consume any alcohol?"

"Only wine, I mean I wasn't drunk or anything."

Sherlock's voice got a little higher than it should have. "It doesn't matter. Any amount of alcohol will give you a false sense of warmth; it was far colder than you felt it to be, Yaism. You could have died!"

Yasim looked down at her (or rather Sherlock's) blanket, she felt like a child being scolded by their mother. By the way Sherlock was talking it sounded like it should have been obvious to anyone, maybe it was. She knew she was rather spontaneous and tended to act before really thinking anything through. "I'm sorry." she said in a small voice.

Sherlock's face fell. He looked down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No... I mean, Yasim... I-" Sherlock was cut off by the sound of his mobile vibrating on the table. He got up to fetch it, grateful for the distraction. Yasim watched him silently as he strode past her, a smile creeping up on his face as he scanned his phone.

"Murder... not too far from here." he stated after reading the text from Lestrade. With that he grabbed his coat and bolted out the door, leaving Yasim by the fire, looking like a confused Eskimo. After a few seconds he poked his head back in the flat. "You do realize that means _follow __me_."

**A/N- Just so you know I am not a Doctor (haha, I almost wrote 'the' Doctor... and btw I'm not him either) so my apologies if I get some facts on Hypothermia wrong... (googling the word can only give you so much information). Well here is chapter eight, I had fun writing this one (Im gonna have even more fun writing the next one). I hope Sherlock didn't seem too out of character, Hrlyqin helped me with that... where would I be without her? (Shes writing a fic, Pulling the Strings, about how Mycroft sneaks around behind the scenes to get everyone where they need to be, its quite interesting, I recommend it)**

**If you like it, let me know and review, however if you don't like it... let me know and review.**

**P.S I hope some of you get the 'J-A-M' thing... its a big deal on tumblr, not really sure why... John and Jam... oh well.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N- Hello there *ducks random object being thrown at her* numchucks? NUMCHUCKS? REALLY? Who _throws_ numchucks? Yes, I know im late with this but the Doctor said three days... and well... you how he is. We ended up coming back on the 3rd but I wasn't gonna miss the new season of Sherlock so so we went back again but too far, got lost, bumped into our evil twins and almost blew up a planet... so yeah. Sorry... but really guys I do apologize; a new job and a life hit me at the same time so I've been busy. Thanks again sooo much to hrlyqin for keeping me sane, sending me her stories to pre-read and for making sure I wasn't dead... when I say go read her stories, I'm not just saying that because shes my beta reader; they're seriously brilliant! After rewriting this chapter like four times I'm still not happy with it, but I figured you guys needed SOMETHING so here it is... read and review pretty please!  
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**P.S And I couldn't help the very last word of this chapter xD (Only ones who have seen the new Sherlock will get it)  
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Yasim walked towards the crime scene, sipping on the steaming hot cuppa in her hands. She was extra bundled up in a padded white coat that, she thought, made her look a bit like a marshmallow, and wrapped tightly around her neck was Sherlock's scarf. To her utter disbelief Sherlock had complied when she asked if she could borrow it. He simply slid it off his throat and wordlessly draped it around her own neck. She didn't really need his of course, she did have other scarves, but she liked this one in particular. As silly as it sounded it made her feel like he was close...perhaps it was his scent that clung to the scarf, like the smell of old books.

"No!"

Yasim snapped out her daze to see a rather angry looking young woman walking towards them. The woman stopped right in front of Sherlock and put her hands on her hips.

"Why are you here?" she asked. "Lestrade left me in charge of this crime scene."

Sherlock looked down on her as if she was an annoying child and rolled his eyes. "That may very well be,however Lestrade informed me that you might be in need of my assistance... so I suppose that makes me your babysitter for the evening. Excuse me." He pushed past her ignoring her rant about 'police protocol' and 'unauthorized personnel in crime scenes' (Yasim guessed that meant her).

Once inside the house she saw a small group of people frantically running about, some taking pictures and others talking to a man sitting on a couch. His face red and splotchy, he could barley get a few words out before he would start sobbing uncontrollably. Sherlock leaned closer to her.

"Joseph Bell." he said gesturing towards the man. "He found his wife dead this morning in the kitchen."

"Poor man." Yasim said

"Apparently she was-" Sherlock started but found himself talking to the air; Yasim had already started to walk towards the sobbing man. Ugh, another sympathetic one. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and glanced behind him towards the kitchen. Down to business. He spun around causing his coat to fan behind him and strode to the dead body. It was a woman, in her late 30s laying on her back, there were no outer wounds present. Gained about 15 pounds in the past few months. Obviously wealthy, three week old brand-name clothes, new diamond heart shaped necklace, diamond studs. The contents of her stomach a meter away from her. Her last meal seemed to be turkey, mashed potatoes and biscuits. Poisoned? Where was John when he needed him? He turned around and saw Yasim talking to Mr Bell, she had her hand on his back while he tried to words between sobs. Why was she wasting her time with such tragicomic actions? Sherlock knelt close to the body; there was a rash on the woman's hand. Interesting-

"S- Sherlock Holmes?" asked a voice from behind him. He turned to see Joseph standing behind him. His face was still red but he had seemed to gain some self- control.

"Yes?" He answered in a tone that sounded like he was wasn't the slightest bit interested in what he had to say.

"They say you're the best detective in London... you _will_ find out what happened to her?"

"Well." Sherlock started "No one can predict-"

"Of course he will." Yasim butt in, giving Sherlock 'the' look. Sherlock rolled his eyes and went back to observing the body.

"Thank you." Joseph eyes started again to water "You know it was our anniversary last week. Been married 17 years."

"That's wonderful." Yasim told him, leading him back to the couch "That's a beautiful necklace you gave her."

"Oh, that one she bought herself. I gave her the earrings."

Yasim stopped walking. "You mean you didn't give her the necklace?"

"No..." Joseph answered looking slightly confused "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, um, I was just wondering where you bought it. Excuse me I must consult with my... umm Mr Holmes."

Yasim practically ran to Sherlock, tripping over a potted plant in the process."She had a lover!"

Sherlock looked up from examining the woman's wedding ring and raised an eyebrow "And how did you deduce that?"

"He didn't buy the necklace for her!"

"Of course he didn't, he was in Amsterdam when it was bought."

"How did- Oh, never mind! She didn't buy the necklace either, heart-shaped jewelery is not something a woman buys for herself. A man definitely bought it for her recently. And it wasn't Joseph."

Sherlock sprung up from his kneeling position. Rash on hands. Vomiting. Lover.

"Mr Bell!" he called, striding into the living room.

Joseph looked up from his police report "Yes?"

"Did you ever have protected intercourse with your wife?"

Yasim smacked her forehead while Joseph stared blankly at Sherlock.

Sherlock rolled his eyes "Are you able to have children?"

Joseph was silent for a moment. "No." He said uncomfortably.

"Was she a virgin when she married you?"

"...Yes, how is this relevant-"

"I need to do an autopsy." Sherlock grabbed the paperwork from Joseph's hands and started flipping through the pages. "Sign your name here and print mine on this line." He said after finding the right page. Joseph stared up at mad man looking down at him.

"Do you want me to find out what happened to your wife or not?" Sherlock asked.

Joseph was silent for a moment then sighed "I need to find another pen." With that he got up and left the living room

"What the hell was that about?" Yasim asked after he was gone.

"The wife had a allergic reaction, to latex. She was born into money so she never had to wear latex gloves for cleaning or cooking or anything of the sort, her husband couldn't have children so no birth control was needed. She recently started a sexual relationship with a man who was fertile so now she needed a contraceptive. At first she took pills but that caused her to gain weight but look at her, she's obviously the type that takes great care in her outer appearance so-"

"Condoms? An allergic reaction the the condoms?" Yasim finished wide- eyed. This man was truly extraordinary, not that she'd ever tell him that...

"Yes" He answered a bit surprised. People usually didn't follow when he was explaining his deductions.

Just then Sally burst in the room waving the autopsy paper in her hand. "What the hell is this?" You didn't need to be a detective to tell she was livid. "Lestrade may put up with your shit but I DON'T! You are NOT authorized to-"

"Condoms." Sherlock interrupted, not phased in the slightest by her sudden effusion.

"What?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes "Is your hearing actually impaired or are you just being incompetent, like the rest of the police force?"

"Incompetence? You of all people have the nerve to talk to me about incompetence! ...I have just about had it with you marching in and telling everyone what to do! I know how to do my job! Don't act like you're superior to me, Sherlock Holmes. You're not superior to anyone. You know why? I leave here and I go home and I've got my mum and my sister and people that love me. I'm not just some sad lonely FREAK who drags pets around and needs to hang out at crime scenes so he can feel clever. Think you're better than me? I've got friends. How bout you?"

By this time police officers had started to form a circle around Donovan and Sherlock. Sure, she had told Sherlock off before but nothing like this. As for Sherlock he stood as cold and composed as ever, a calm anger settling through his body. He glanced at Yasim, not that he felt she would defend him...

Yasim stood in shock. Why wasn't anyone doing anything, this man has saved countless lives and the police would be lost without him. Sure he was hard to deal with sometimes but no one deserved to be treated like that. Before she knew it Yasim found herself pushing past the crowd of policemen and doing something she told herself she would never do again.

Sherlock saw it coming. He had full intentions of averting it somehow, but surprised even himself when he was unable to deter from leaning forward and sliding his hands on the small of Yasim's back as her lips skimmed the tip of his. This kiss was not like before, he was focused only on Yasim as a thousand deductions shot through his head like lightning; the softness of her lips, the flavour of her lip gloss, the sent of her hair... he closed his eyes, leaned even closer and surrendered to the euphoric sensation that he had deprived himself of all his life.

Sally's smug look fell as her jaw practically hit the floor. The whole room was silent.

Yasim pulled back and looked into Sherlock eyes, the deepest gray that she had ever seen them... Then reality hit her like sack of two ton- bricks. They had just made out in front of half of Scotland yard as a dead woman lay in the kitchen not even ten feet away from them... but she wasn't going to feel embarrassed or run out, oh no, she wanted to put Sally in her place.

"I'll get a cab." She whispered (loud enough so everyone could hear) to Sherlock and strode out of the house, brushing past Donovan as she did so, who was still gaping and wide- eyed.

Sherlock straightened out his jacket and adjusted the collar. He would never forget Sally's face at this very moment.

"Like I said... condoms" He said with a wink. "Laters!"


End file.
